The Cursed and The Silenced
by GeminiLady21
Summary: You have heard the tales of Beauty and The Beast or Rose Red Snow White, where unlucky Princes are cursed as monsters. Former Prince Hans's punishment happens to be a cruel, yet fit one, cursed to be, The Cursed. To break it, he must learn to love. Greda is a mute girl that has been silenced. The two cross paths. This, is a new fairytale. It is about, The Cursed and The Silenced.


**Full Summary: Prince Hans's punishment for his actions in Arendelle, was to become The Cursed. A generation of unlucky Princes through other fairytales, cursed to become horrendous monsters. It's pretty easy to figure out how to break it, isn't it? That is love. Greda is a simple peasant girl, but a mute one. She is silenced and drowned in the depths of her own fatal flaws and past. The two cross paths. Shall the two both break through their own curses and learn to love each other? Or shall everything end in an epic tragedy? Hmm...well it is up to you Reader. I am just the Narrator. I am telling the tale of The Cursed and The Silenced. **

**Rating: Rated T for Violence, Swearing, Sexual Themes**

**Characters: Hans, OC**

**Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Family**

**Setting: Post Frozen**

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**~Chapter One~**

I trust that you, dear Reader, have read fairy tales as a child, correct? If not, I am sad to say, you must have not a very good childhood.

Either way, moving on with the story, you heard of those tales like Rose Red and Snow White? Or a more popular well known story, Beauty and The Beast? I know that in some point in your life, you heard of that beloved childhood story. Some of these fairy tales have a connection that you must have noticed, Reader: The Princes are cursed as animals or horrendous beasts. Men really take it hard in fairytales, don't they?

Are the curses of these Princes a strange coincidence? Or strange connections? Hmm~hmm...I do not want to reveal everything all at once to you Reader. As you read in the summary, I am going to tell a new tale. 'The Cursed and The Silenced.' Please lean back and read on, as I recounter this new story…

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As Prince Hans sat in his dark and damp cell, he internally debated to himself as to what his thirteen older brothers possibly have in store for his punishment. To entertain himself and kill his free past time, Hans came up with outrageous scenarios as to what his punishment will be. He simply laughed at the idea of death in store for him. The Royal Family of the Southern Isles, executing the youngest brother? Preposturous! Absurd! Hans snickered confidently to himself, as if he had a funny secret. Unlike his stupid brothers who all thought that he knew nothing about the ways of ruling, Hans knew a thing or two about politics. And from what he knew, the Southern Isles Kingdom _had_ to keep up a good reputation, even though it was shattered by him.

The thirteenth prince has to say, he was quite flattered that all of the bustling and fighting between his brothers, not to mention the hot gossip and rumors that spreaded through the townspeople like a wildfire, were all thanks to him. He rolled his eyes to himself. It's not like he actually _murdered_ anyone, did he? People can be so sensitive over little things like planned murder and regicide.

Hans glanced out of the tiny bar window of his jail cell. Rays of sunlight shine through, piercing through the darkness like swords. Hans fingers the dirty brown rags that are supposed to serve for clothes, in disgust. Up until this point, he didn't realized the particularly unhygenic and peasantry accommodations that the justice system of the Southern Isle served. He pondered more as to what his punishments might be. He was absolutely sure that he will not be executed, that is if his brothers value their pubilcity. He snickered. He would win either way.

Exile is very much possible. Or maybe he shall be doomed to scrub the floors like some sort of servant. Hans shuddered at _that_ thought. As much as he couldn't bear his brothers, he certainly would not stand for it if his punishment were to become a servant! The thought of it! He scowled at a small bug scuttling across the dirt floor and promptly smashes it with his boot. Stupid vermin. He compared the bug to the puny little lives of the two Arendelle princesses, as to everyone else.

Everybody around Hans are mere bugs to him. Bugs that can be squashed if he felt like it. Bugs that can be ruled over if he felt benevolent. Bugs that can be _controlled. _Yes, control is what Hans knew he is destined for as well he craved. Control meant power. Respect. Fear. So when everyone made such a huge _fuss_ about his attempted murders, he was indifferent. Nonchalant.

In truth, he honestly cannot comprehend _what was the big deal. _Those two naive sisters are back in Arendelle, alive and well, ruling over their pathetic little kingdom. Hans scoffed at the thoughts of those two woman. Elsa was such a weak ruler in his eyes, and would not be so powerful and feared by many if she did not have those god like ice powers. Ana... A smirk curled onto Hans's lips. A naive, gullible woman. She shall fail as a queen as well, if she were to ever become one.

Aside from their royal positions, Hans's mind wandered over to their sisterly relationship. _Sickening, _Hans found those two woman _sickening. _Their relationship is unrealistic and sickening as Hans would call it. What sort of siblings actually _care_ for each other? _Love_ each other? And that "love" was this untangible and not even real thing is what unravelled the harsh winter in Arendelle? It sounded like something out of a fairy tale!

From as Hans thought of what "love" was, it is simply a tool to him. A tool to manipulate others, to carefully put them on the puppet strings as to which he can control them as he pleases for his own benefits. "Love" was a weakness. "Love" was not real. "Love" is something that Hans cannot understand. When someone claims to "love" you, they are only looking for a way to use you.

He ran his gloveless hand over his face. Such a shame they took away his gloves. It is particularly getting chilly in this unsanitary cell…

"Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, it is time for your trial." A guard with a gruff voice suddenly announced.

Hans looked up. A cheeky grin spread on his face. _Show time._

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"Greda, it will be a privilege for me to ask your hand for marriage." A handsome blonde haired man stated, on his knees. His dark blue eyes skim over a young pretty woman, as he kissed her hand. A sweet smile spreaded on the pretty woman's face, Greda. Though a younger girl, watching this scene perched up on her favorite pine tree. Madaline can see the fakeness and manipulation playing in her eyes. She frowned at this. Her older sister, Greda, would always use this tactic on men. Isn't she already in love with, errm, a man named John or something?

Madaline quietly munched on an apple. How will this fare, she wondered. A seemingly flustered blush spreads across Greda's face. She batted her eyes, putting a small dainty hand up to her rosy pink lips. "Oh-ho...I am so flattered, Sir William. I am a mere daughter of a blacksmith. What interest do I possibly spike in you?"

"Well your singing certainly allures me, madam."

Greda gave out a high, almost musical laugh. Madaline rolled her eyes, biting into the juicy red fruit. She could tell, a mile away, the phoniness in her sister's act. How can her suitors not see it? Poor unfortunate souls. "Do not flatter me so, Sir William." An idea flashes across Madaline's mind. She put a hand over her mouth, to stop herself from snorting out loud in laughter. As Sir William and Greda continually blabber on their declarations of love to one another, Greda quietly grabbed a bucket of water that she rested on a branch.

She then creeped slowly on the huge, sturdy branch, the leaves concealing her with their fresh evergreen scent. Madaline peered down, smiling wickedly. Ah, how she would enjoy this! "...And to you, my love is like a showering waterfall in which it bursts forth from mirage!" Sir William declared with his dramatic flair. Madaline paused, frowning. What sort of metaphor was that? She bit her tongue, seeing the confounded look on her older sister's face as well. But it quickly smoothens into that innocent, phony adoring expression.

"You honor me with your downpour of love, William."

"Well, it is a downpour - literally!" Madaline cackled to herself, tipping over the bucket of water. It landed directly on the couple. Sir William shouts in surprise. Greda screams how her new frock is ruined. This time, Madaline did not hide her presence. She bursted out into full out merry laughter. "Ahahahahhaha, I hope that this wet surprise did not dampen your spirits! Hahahahaha!" Madaline giggled. Although, she eyed Greda in particular, measuring her reaction to her prank.

Greda's lovely blushing face, is now in the shade of a beet root red that Madaline thought of unattractive for the looks of her older sister. Her wet brunette hair hangs in clumps on her head, almost appearing black, making Greda not looking so pretty as she was. Anger bores through the glare that Greda is shooting at her. Madaline leaned forward, wondering and antcipating as to how her "lovely kind" sister will react.

"You little brat!" Sir William shouted, his once blonde poofy hair, flat from the water. Madaline simply stuck her tongue out at him. She then proceeded to shuck her half eaten apple at him. He jumped, as if he has never been hit by fruit before. "You little bi-"

"Sir William," Greda interrupted, her expression suddenly cool. Madaline frowned, intrigued. Is her older sister going to defend her against this stuck up suitor? This time, Greda is no longer looking at Madaline. "What is it that you are talking about? There is no one there." She tugged at his hand, pulling him away. Madaline clenched her fists, staring down at her half eaten apple that is now on the drenched ground. She suddenly did not feel so giddy over her prank.

"W-what is it that you talk about, Greda?" Madaline saw Greda lean into his ear, whispering. "Oh...ohhh." He started laughing. "I see. Well you are right Greda, there _is _no one there."

Madaline could only stare at the grass from her branch. Why did everything look so blurry to her all of the sudden?

* * *

"So, a private trial for me, eh?" Hans sneered, strolling back and forth, though his hands are in shackles. All twelve of his brothers stood in perfect formation in the royal courtroom, though the eldest out of line, the King of the Southern Isles. Eric, was his name, though Hans hardly knew him given that he spent all of his time in the courtroom and doing his studies in his childhood. Not that he wished to know who his older brother is - just another squirming bug in his way.

King Eric stared at Hans for a good minute, stoic and unreadable. Hans smiled coolly, yet glared at his eldest brother. Did he not hear his question? Was he just going to play this staring game with him, ignoring him? Hans felt his hands clenched up. With a fiery passion, he _hated_ being ignored. Period. On the spot, he had an impulse to immediately strangle King Eric for just _standing _there. But on the outside, Hans maintained a perfectly calm composure.

"We have decided," Prince Eric finally said, his deep voice echoing through the empty royal hall. "Your punishment."

"Hmm, may I take a guess?" Hans offered, giving a humorless smirk at all of his brothers. "Ooh, how about this one, execution? Will I be gullitoned? Ah, no no, that is much too kind a swift death for such a disgrace like me. Or hanged, a way to kill the lowest of the low? Hm, better yet, how about stoning?" He said, cocking his head inquisitvely at all of his brothers. Though King Eric showed no reaction, Hans's tauntings clearly gotten into a few of his other brothers.

The third oldest, a soldier driven, hefty tall looking man, a scar running down his cheek, glares=d at Hans with the intent to kill. If it wasn't Hans's favorite brother, Ansel? The one who always made it clear that he did not like Hans as a child. The one that always mercilessly tease and beaten him up. Hans simply wiggled his eyebrows at him, as if he were a child. Ansel's fiery dark eyes bulge out of his head, raising his fists at Hans.

"You should be fearful, you smug little bastard, of the punishment we decided for you!" He snarled in a thick English accent.

Hans rolled his eyes in answer. "Please. Whatever you all have decided for me would not _change_ anything. It would not change the Southern Isle's shattered reputation, your ruined family name, or make me feel any remorse for my actions, whatsoever."

"What ever happened to you Hans?" His ninth older brother spoke, Prince Lukas asked. A gentle young man, weak and easily pushed around if you asked Hans. "What happened to our little brother?"

Hans scoffed. This serves to show how all of his brothers barely took the time to even notice his well being and _who he really is_ as they grew up. "I have always been this away, believe it or not Lukas."

"You do not regret anything?" Lukas asked, disbelief etched on his bearded face.

"Not a shred." Hans replied, shrugging with such nonchalance. "The only thing that I actually regret is that I have not slain Queen Elsa's blood on her land." A gasp aroused from all of his brothers, all of them talking at once, enraged and disturbed. Hans looked on boredly, though a little amused that they were bickering so much over _him. _Charming. Though he noticed that one brother in particular, his second brother, Harald, did not say anything in the midst of the other brothers fighting. Instead he was staring intently at Hans, straight it his eyes. From what Hans could remember, Harald, in his own words, was a little more _tolerable_ than all of the other brothers. During Hans's mistreatment of his dear older brothers for two whole years when younger, Harald did not _completely_ ignore him. He talked a little to Hans, played with him, and sometimes even rode horses with him if no other brothers were watching. Still, Hans hated him as much as any other of his twelve brothers.

"Silence!" King Eric stated, his voice loudly reverbrating through the huge room, pounding his golden staff. The brothers seized their bickering at once, going back into their militant postures. King Eric's eyes, slightly wrinkled at the sides showing that his age is catching up with him, looked directly into Hans's. The thirteenth prince stared intently back, wondering how such a quiet man became such a well admired king and ruler among the citizens of the Southern Isles. "You truly do not regret a thing for your actions, Hans?"

"Like I said you deaf oaf, no." This received some angry swearing and glares.

King Eric seemed to not hear this demeaning statement. His old eyes analyzed Hans, up and down. "...Mother would not be proud of you." This time, Hans is the one who reacted. He cringed, gritting his teeth.

"...She is _dead._" He snarled. "The dead have no say as to my situation. It is pointless to think how she would react." But this annoying question planted itself within Hans's mind. What _would_ she think…?

King Eric paced around Hans, as if examining some type of product. "All I can ask is, why, Hans?"

"Isn't it clear enough? _Power._ Self worth." Hans replied, eyeing the King. "I had no chance in the first place to ever become king. I took the quick and convenient way. And I would have gotten away with it." Hans explained dryly.

"And why would you want to become king?" King Eric asked, his voice equally flat, betraying no emotion or reaction like the other brothers. Now that Hans is actually getting to know his oldest brother, he is starting to become irked of him. What is the purpose of these pointless questions? What can the King gain from them? Can he get on with his final sentence already?

Yet Hans kept his eye contact with the King of the Southern Isles. "So that everyone would know me. So that _you _all would know that the youngest, the invisible, gained a whole entire kingdom to his whim."

King Eric stopped in his tracks. "So we are part of the reason?"

Hans paused. By this point, he realized that he slipped in his statement. "Are you all honestly blind?" He faced all of his brothers. "You ignored my very existence for two years. You looked down at me, jeered at me, and outcasted me. I was your _inferior_ to all of you. And now you're all wondering how it all led up to this?"

"Are you suggesting that your actions are our fault?" The seventh eldest, Prince Axel, questioned, with indignance on his face.

"More or less." Hans answered, yawning.

"I see." King Eric said, still staring intently at Hans. Must he stare at him like this? "Well. I certainly have found out a lot about you, young brother. And I am sorry." Hans stared dubiously at the king. He sounded...genuine. What does he gain from this? "Our parents will truly not be proud to see this." Hans rolled his eyes, snorting. King Eric continued as if he didn't hear him. "However, no matter your explanations, Hans, your actions are not justified. Justice must be served in one form or another, whether you are our family or not." The King looked weary. "Though you did not murder anyone, fortunately, you had the intent. All I could just say is Hans...speaking for myself, though I do not know you well, brother, I am sorry." Hans raised an eyebrow. The King received questionable looks from the other brothers.

"That...our actions formed you into what you are today..." King Eric's face breaks character for a moment, his eyes shutting. Hans wondered what this gesture meant. Disappointment? Anger? Disgust? He may never know.

_What you are today._ These words repeat in Hans mind. He sniffed. What? Was he some sort of object or monster? It was no use for anyone feeling sorry for him by this point. He will push away any pity. All he can depend is himself. Now what is his damned punishment?

"Nevertheless," The King straightens, his face reforming into its usual indifferent expression. "We have decided your final punishment." He paused. Hans waited, putting on a bored look. Can he deliver it already? "...We have brought Grand Pabbie, the troll to our kingdom to perform The Cursed spell on you. After you become The Cursed, we shall isolate you in a castle where you can entertain yourself until you can break your own spell."

Chills ran down Hans's back. The Cursed…? Wasn't that just a mere wives tale? A silly legend that Hans read as a child? Although the matters of the spell was a bit hazy to Hans...He gave out a laugh at his given fate. "Really? What a merciful action that is supposed to be my punishment. Have you all gone soft, or have you just got less creative?" Hans mocked.

Prince Ansel glared at Hans. "Be thankful _sheisskopf."_ Hans felt his nose flare. That bastard. "Unlike some other soft pussies around here, I suggested giving you a more fit punishment - stone crushing." Hands winced inside. Despite that he laughed at the possibility of death, he did not like the thoughts of being stone crushed - slowly but painfully being crushed to death by heavy rocks as they crush your ribs and squeeze the breath out of you, is the type of execution that Hans rather not preferred.

"Now Ansel." King Eric glanced at him disapprovingly. Suddenly, a bell rang. He looked up, his head high. "Brothers, that is Grand Pabbie. He is here."

Hans stood in a bored posture, looking indifferent and uninterested on the outside towards others - though internally, Hans felt...what, worried? He laughed at himself. How bad can being The Cursed be? It's just some crummy troll casting a spell over him. How bad can such a curse be?

Oh dear Hans. Quite a lot.

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**A/N: What do you think? First official Frozen fic! Reviews will be appreciated! :D**


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